


Fake Prostitute

by gatekat, Verilidaine



Series: ProwlxJazz Anniversary 2020 [6]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, M/M, Prostitution is Legal and Unregulated, ProwlxJazz Anniversary 2020, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verilidaine/pseuds/Verilidaine
Summary: When Jazz decides to just pay for a 'face he really wasn't expecting what he got.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Series: ProwlxJazz Anniversary 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919776
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	Fake Prostitute

Jazz crossed over the city limits of Praxus shortly after dawn, a full orn ahead of when he was to meet with the local ISO commander. He was looking forward to some time to explore a city that was known for its expansive and smooth roads, and have some time to just zone out and drive and not have to think about anything. 

The first thing he did was a full loop of the city, taking the high-speed turnpike that allowed him to drive _almost_ as fast as he wanted. Even going top legal speed, he was being passed by plenty of locals, so he took the opportunity to push the limits a little bit and hope tomorrow morning didn't start off with the awkward explanation of a speeding ticket. It felt good to just roll on his tires at speed, a bright, vibrant city around and below him. Eventually he was ready to get off his tires for a bit and turned off the main freeway at a point where noted an abundance of quieter bars and clubs. 

Not even really sure what he was looking for, Jazz cruised through the streets, catching bits of music as he passed by local bars with faded signs each advertising the best high grade in Praxus, or in one case, Cybertron. Locals milled about on the patios, laughing and drinking and enjoying company. 

It was the opposite of what Jazz normally went for, all fast-paced crowds and thumping base and intoxicated masses. But somehow, it was perfect. These were mecha with normal jobs, families and lives they weren't trying to escape. He stopped at one randomly, a place that just felt calm and safe, and transformed to walk in. The bar and tables were largely full with average Praxian frames in a wild rainbow of colors mixed in with muted palettes on some. He was almost to the end of his visual sweep before it fully registered what was different here, beyond the live piano music. This was a first responder bar. No matter the colors medics were hard to miss. Same with the cops. Between the two professions more than half the occupants were covered. It explained the peaceful vibe.

Looking around at the patrons, Jazz decided what he was searching for. Unattached, simple companionship that he could lose himself with. Or, in. 

Praxians had no qualms about the selling of frames as a service, whether as their primary function or not, and it was something Jazz thought more city-states should adopt. It lowered crime rates significantly, which created its own cascade of positive effects, including happier Enforcers.

And while normally it wasn't something Jazz took advantage of, he didn't feel like the whole song and dance for distracting company tonight and there was a good chance of finding someone selling here. At least from what he'd heard, Enforcers tended to tip and pay _very_ well, as a way to give back to the community, so if there was somewhere to look, this was it. 

Plus, if he propositioned the wrong mech, he probably wouldn't get punched for it. 

He stopped by the bar and ordered two cubes of Praxus's finest high grade--at least, according to the sign--and scanned the room while he waited. Even off-duty and not wearing their insignia, it was fairly simple to pick out the Enforcers and medics, just from how they held themselves and their conversations, which Jazz could catch some of if he focused correctly. Even though he was sure some of them would be willing to 'face for shanix, he wanted to find someone completely removed from his own profession as possible. 

The bartender slid his cubes over and Jazz took them, taking a sip as he swept the room once more and found _exactly_ what he was looking for. The mech was sitting alone and didn't have the typical armor reinforcements of an Enforcer or the tell-tale hand modifications of a medic. 

That he looked to be _just_ Jazz's type, dark-patterned with some bright decorative highlights, was just a plus. 

And, as he took his first step over, the mech was already watching him. 

Jazz stopped in front of his table and set the second cube down. "Buy ya a cube, an' maybe some'a your time?" 

"Definitely a cube and likely the time," the mech answered and motioned to the seat next to him when Jazz put the second cube down. "What are you interested in during my time?"

"At least several overloads for each of us and probably some positions that'll make me sore in the morning. Soreness optional for you, of course," Jazz added. 

"Then my time as well. I'm Prowl," he offered after taking a drink. "Your place or a hotel?"

"Don' got a place, just passin' through," Jazz said. "So my hotel will do."

Prowl nodded his doorwings agreeably and took another sip before sealing and subspacing both his original cube and the one Jazz gave him. "Then welcome to Praxus. I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay. Where are we going?"

"Place not too far from here, you know the Maven?" 

Prowl flicked his doorwings in affirmative. 

"Great," Jazz said. "And I'm sure I will," he added with a grin and a flick of one side of his visor. "Enjoy my stay in Praxus, that is. Here," he said, and passed over a single-use transaction stick. "Bill that for whatever you think is fair in the morning. I'll approve it." 

Prowl raised an optic ridge but nodded and subspaced the stick before they walked out. ::What are your do’s and don'ts of the evening?::

::No spark play,:: Jazz said as they folded into alt. ::At least for me. That's really it for don'ts. Do's are anything else. If you're comfortable usin' a firm hand I'd appreciate it. And happy to return if that's what ya like.:: 

::I can use a firm hand and I enjoy submitting as well. No spark play. I do not enjoy pain, though I am willing. The best judge of an activity; if I can drive for work in the morning without a medic or pain blockers I'm likely quite agreeable.::

::Great,:: Jazz said, pulling out into the road with Prowl behind him. ::I should _probably_ say the same or my boss'll get annoyed.:: 

::I understand. None of my one night stand inclinations will get either of us in trouble with our respective bosses,:: Prowl chuckled with a rev of excitement. ::While I enjoy variety I reserve the more intense kinks to those I know well or who pay extremely well.::

::Heh, mech if I only had more time,:: Jazz chuckled with an answering rev. 

As soon as they were close enough to the hotel, Jazz received a ping with the room number and entry code. He sent both to Prowl as they pulled up and were greeted by a valet, who offered luggage storage and a private wash service for their alt modes on the way in. 

By the time Prowl stepped out of the automatic wash and wax into a lobby of clear flowing oil ponds and light fountains weaving among the crystal growths he looked faintly dazed but still accepted the flute of effervescent energon smoothly only because of protocols designed for emergencies. The same protocols kept his amazement off his face and out of his field as he followed Jazz to the elevator servicing the levels their room was on.

Fortunately Jazz had been in places like this often enough to know his way around the multitude of personable staff, including the elevator operator that ensured they reached the correct level and knew which way their room was.

He slipped them tips on the way by, thanking them for their assistance while keeping watch on the impassive Praxian. 

"Have you been here before?" Jazz asked when they were alone in the hallway. 

"No, this is well above my pay grade," Prowl answered as he focused on pulling himself together. "Do you stay here often?"

"Nah," Jazz said. "Too much fuss. Fun to treat, though." They approached their room, where a minibot waited just outside. 

"Polish service, sirs?" he asked, bowing slightly at the waist. 

Jazz glanced at Prowl. "Up to you." 

"No thank you," Prowl decided, eager to be inside, in private, and get his hands on Jazz.

"Good," Jazz purred, and keyed the code in, pulling Prowl with him. The room was softly lit, and Jazz was impressed with how quickly the staff had set up the delicacy and beverage display on a table with two adjustable chairs. He'd made the reservation less than a groon ago. Through a doorway he could see the berth, and the slowly rotating light above showed that it had been sprinkled with crystal dust, making it glimmer. 

Lost in appreciating the room, Jazz lost track of where Prowl was, until a moment after the door closed and the Praxian’s engines revved aggressively, and Jazz was pushed against the wall. The pin was gentle, testing, and when Prowl moved in for a kiss, Jazz wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and another around his waist, yanking him in closer. 

"Ain't gonna break," he told Prowl. 

"Good," Prowl's growl turned commanding as he slid a hand between them to finger Jazz's valve cover, teasing the edges as he circled the center with a fingertip. "Open."

" _That's_ more like it," Jazz said, obeying with the command and groaning when Prowl's fingers pressed against him, then teased their way past fully engorged platelets thick with oozing lubricant.

"So ready," Prowl voice deepened with his optic color. He thrust three fingers in as deeply as he could as he pressed Jazz's chest back and pedes apart with his frame. "You want more than this, don't you? Something thicker and longer and crackling hot."

"You know it," Jazz said, visor already flickering a bit. Primus he hadn’t realized how badly he needed this. "Any part'a you that fits." 

Prowl chuckled almost darkly and Jazz saw him decide on something. He pumped his fingers in and out, fast, rough, while rubbing his emerging spike against Jazz's leg.

Jazz rocked against the fingers. "C'mon, mech," he said with a gasping laugh. "I know you wanna use something else." 

"I do," Prowl agreed with a rough pant as he worked his fingers in Jazz's valve and the first zaps of a building overload crossed the conductive lubricant. "I want you right on the edge before I lift you up and fill you, show you how strong I am."

"Yeah?" Jazz teased. "Think you're that good?" 

" _You_ do," Prowl said, and twisted his wrist, making Jazz gasp. 

"Okay," Jazz said as his helm fell back, "Okay yeah, you ... are..." 

"Now you're getting the idea," he swiped a spare finger along platelets and found Jazz's anterior node with his thumb all without pausing his thrusts. "I do what I want and you'll enjoy it."

Jazz shuddered and praised himself on a good choice. For as uncertain as Prowl had been outside, once it came to getting it on he was _fabulous_ at command. "Yes, anything, anything you want." 

"I want you so close you can taste the ozone," Prowl rumbled eagerly. "Want your legs weak and your voice crying out."

Jazz's leg drew up and hooked around Prowl's waist. "C'mon c'mon c'mon," he chanted. "Ya know how long an orn I've had?" 

"Not as long as mine," Prowl chuckled and twisted his wrist back and forth to rub against every lubricant soaked node.

"No way," Jazz gasped, fighting to keep himself sounding like someone with _some_ intelligence--Primus _below_ this mech could do things with his fingers--and not like a mechling on his first 'face. "There's--oh, _frag_ \--there's no way."

Suddenly the fingers were gone and Jazz was no longer supporting himself as a longer, thicker, much more perfectly fitting object slammed into his grasping valve. It was so absolutely _perfect_ that he almost overloaded right there, but through sheer force of will to not completely embarrass himself, managed to hold off -- for less than a quarter of a klik, then he shouted and grabbed Prowl's shoulders, shuddering. Prowl continued to thrust until Jazz was coming down before he groaned and pumped the first load of what felt like pure electricity into Jazz's valve, right up against the node cluster in the back.

Jazz gasped, seeing static, and squeezed his legs around Prowl's waist. "Oh, _frag-frag-frag--_ " And then he was tipping over again, field pushing and pulling with Prowl's as charge danced back and forth between their frames. Prowl pounded into him, each driving thrust shooting more charged transfluid into the node cluster until Prowl finally stilled, their arrays pressed tightly together and still holding Jazz up with the help of the wall.

"Mmm, nice first round," Prowl rumbled as he took control of his frame again and walked to the berth without setting Jazz down or pulling out.

As Jazz thought about how to switch their power dynamic he found himself on his back, his wrists above his helm in Enforcer-grade cuffs, though the stasis aspect was turned off, with Prowl straddling him. "You do look pretty like that," Prowl enjoyed looking down as lubricant dripped from his platelets onto Jazz's spike cover.

"Where," Jazz said, still working on getting his vents steadied, "Did you get these?" He flexed his hands. 

Prowl teased his fingers down Jazz's chest and fondled his headlights, then reached back to get his fingers into Jazz's ankle wheels. "I bought them from stock. I like having a couple spares."

"Now what could a sweet-lookin' mech like you possibly need _spares_ for?" Jazz asked, tilting his helm and rolling his hips up once, then twice, the second time with his spike panel retracted and starting to nudge against Prowl. 

The Praxian moaned softly and settled so Jazz's spike would pressurize inside him and worked the platelets and entry ring to encourage it.

"You never know when one might need to hold multiple suspects, or a big one," Prowl purred. 

"I like a mech who's well-prepped," Jazz agreed. He tried to roll his hips only to find them solidly pinned by a mech that was far heavier than he looked and more skilled at pinning a mecha than he should be. "Mm, speaking of well-prepped," he added.

"I've been looking forward to your spike since you walked up," Prowl groaned as the head of Jazz's spike pressurized to push through his entry ring and he could finally squeeze around it. "Been too long since I felt a new one."

"Not surprised," Jazz said as the first ring of calipers squeezed and shifted around the base of his spike's head, firmly locking it inside his lover. "You feel, mm, fragging _amazing_. Probably have some loyal regulars." He flexed his hands over his helm and tilted his helm back. "C'mon, you told me you had a firm hand." 

"Which means you take what I give you," Prowl reminded him as he focused on coaxing Jazz's spike out with just his valve and keeping Jazz from moving. It felt delicious to have a spike pressurize so slowly inside him, though the audible click of it locking into place at full extension and size made him shiver even more than the sensation of being full.

Jazz tilted his helm back with an x-vent, already starting to pant a little. "Whatcha gonna give me?" he asked as he tried to get some movement, some slide, and was thoroughly denied it by the mech on top of him. All he got was the active cycling of calipers, the rub of lining and the invisible tilting of Prowl's hips. It felt good but it'd take a solid breem or longer to build up a charge like this.

Which from the grin above him was likely the point.

"An overload with no thrusting," Prowl chuckled.

"You like to play a long game, huh," Jazz murmured, and tried to pull his focus in to the soft warmth and teasing movements. 

"Mmm, yes," Prowl purred. "At least on occasion."

Jazz swallowed and nodded, relaxing his frame and dimming his visor. While not the kind of control he'd been looking for, what Prowl was doing counted just as much. The ever-present threat of stasis helped, and the refusal to allow Jazz any purchase of movement. 

But something... 

"Y'got claws?" Jazz murmured, voice heavy with static. 

"Yes," the sound of micro-transformations echoed in Jazz's audials preceded the sharp pressure of combat grade claws on the seam of his chest.

"How d'ya feel about tweakin' my wires?" 

One of those hard, sharp claws slipped under his front bumper and caught a wire, pulling it just hard enough that it didn't break.

"Like that?" Prowl purred with his charge audible in his voice.

" _Yes,_ " Jazz gasped. "Oh, _frag_ \--" He groaned as Prowl tugged again, and the strength of those claws, just from _feeling_ them, made him wonder exactly what kind of mech he had picked up. If his guess on the type of claws was correct--and it probably was--this mech _really_ shouldn't have them. "Don't, _oh_ , don't worry if you snap a few." 

"I'll keep that in mind," Prowl promised as he worked his valve and his hand deeper in, then shifted sideways so he could turn his claws on the other hand to threatening and tweaking wires and cabling in Jazz's ankle tire.

Jazz squirmed, and now truly, fully could lose himself in Prowl's attentions, the small, irregular snags against his wire, the slow, controlled build of charge. He'd found someone with amazing resolve, to draw it out this long without moving. As badly as Jazz wanted to thrust, with as slick as Prowl had been to start, he was even more impressed with the Praxian's self-control. His first clue that Prowl was on the edge wasn't the crackle of charge but the first time he miscalculated and really did snap a wire deep inside Jazz's undercarriage.

It made Jazz's frame jerk up and he received a half-dozen notices about a non-significant decrease in finger mobility on one side, and somehow just knowing Prowl was getting that lost in it almost made him overload. But Prowl had held on this long, Jazz owed it to last until he was given permission to release, no matter what form that came in. Above him Prowl gasped and shivered and suddenly the claws were in places they couldn't do any damage but Jazz could still feel them.

"Be _still_." Prowl hissed before crying out sharply as his frame bowed with a light show intense enough to tag the wall and ceiling as he lost himself in his charge.

Jazz whined, helm thrown back, frozen in place and refusing his frame the overload, dumping as much of the charge as he could into subsystems. "Still" didn't mean overloading. 

Above him Prowl gradually went lax and got control back. With the tweak of a wire he purred. "Overload."

As he spoke, his claw sliced through the top layer of the cable, and Jazz let his charge loose with an audible _crack_ from the first arcs of static, and sobbed as he spilled into the Praxian, who was holding tight around him. Prowl continued to work his valve around Jazz through the overload and petted him gently as he came down.

When Jazz could focus again Prowl leaned forward to kiss him and undid the cuffs to subspace them. "Thank you. Not many have the patience for that."

"Gotta admit," Jazz said, voice heavy with lingering static, "Wasn't what I was looking for but I'll be smelted before I say it wasn't amazing." 

Prowl quirked a smile and his purr deepened. "Still feel up for taking a turn or two in charge?"

"Gimmie a klik, ain't as young as I used t'be," Jazz said with a soft laugh. "Then yes. I wanna see what you're like on the other side. Whatcha like, anything specific?"

Prowl grinned and lifted himself off Jazz's softening spike to flop down next to him. "Bondage, hot liquids whether bath, shower or polishing, denial play. I do not enjoy pain," he added as a reminder.

Jazz rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at Prowl. "You look up the pictures for this suite?" 

Prowl tilted his doorwings down. 

"Good," Jazz said, and slipped his hand into the subspace pocket he'd seen Prowl put the cuffs into, hooked a finger around them, and pulled them out, all within just a few sparkbeats. He held them up with a grin. "Can I borrow these?" 

"Absolutely," Prowl grinned and offered his wrists. "You've got a skilled hand at that."

"You think so?" Jazz spun the cuffs around his finger a few times before catching them and clipping them onto one of Prowl's wrists. "Been practicing. C'mon, you're gonna like this." 

Prowl quirked one optic ridge and one doorwing at him but followed without resistance. Jazz led him through the suite, past the crystal fountain in the living space and the display of treats and high grade, and through an arched doorway that led to the washrack. 

It was an abundantly luxurious room by anyone's standards except perhaps the Prime's, and the focal point of the entire room was a hot oil tub with enough space for a triad, set in front of a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of central Praxus, and the Crystal Gardens glowing softly in the distance. 

"Just in case there's an exhibitionism kink in there somewhere," Jazz said as Prowl stood frozen in the doorway, his optics wide and bright, "The window can be tinted to preference without affecting the view." 

"I'm more of a voyeur, but I don't mind being on display," Prowl breathed. "This is _amazing_."

"After I'm done for the night, enjoy it as long as you want," Jazz said, giving Prowl a light tug towards the tub. When they were close enough to step in, he spun Prowl, pulling both of his arms behind his back, and clasped his free wrist into the cuffs. 

"Comfy?" he purred against Prowl's audial. 

"Yes," Prowl said with a relaxed field and frame to back it up.

"Good," Jazz said. "Go ahead and get in there on your knees." 

Prowl obeyed, stepping into the hot oil, and moaned deeply. His armor loosened to allow the hot oil to ooze deep inside him all the way to his protoform. 

Jazz watched for a few moments, then went over to a table that had been set out with a blue bottle and three carved crystal glasses. He poured one for himself and returned to the tub, taking a sip. "Temperature okay?" 

"It's wonderful," Prowl moaned, his optics off, frame lax and arms up to display his bound wrists behind his helm as he floated with his legs spread in the pool.

"Good," Jazz said, and stepped in, but instead of going all the way in, sat down on the edge and spread his legs open. "C'mere, lovely." 

Prowl powered up his optics as he moved to half kneel between the spread knees and brought his bound hands down to Jazz''s lap. "What do you desire, master?" Prowl tested Jazz's response to the title and the power it implied.

One corner of Jazz's mouth quirked up and he hummed. "You," he said, "Got me all messy and didn't even have the courtesy to clean me up." His valve panel retracted. "So go ahead and start with that." 

Prowl rumbled and went right for the valve with his mouth, more than happy to taste what they were like together. His hands, still in Jazz's lap, teased whatever plating and wiring they could reach. He tweaked, once, to test the response, and got a light tap and a hummed negative in answer, but returning to the teasing drew a pleased sigh.

Jazz rested his weight back on one arm, looking out the window and enjoying the beautiful view overlaid with the sensual pleasures of a sweet, sparkling high grade mixed with the warmth from Prowl's mouth against his still-sensitive and fluffed platelets. Prowl was keeping his touches soft, light, drawing out the pleasure. With a few snapped wires in his chest, and some tension bled out, Jazz could fully relax, forget about everything outside this room, and just _enjoy_. 

When he took the last sip of high grade a few breems later, he swallowed with a low moan and grabbed the back of Prowl's helm, pulling him in and squeezing his thighs around him, holding him in place as he gasped an overload. Just as with his valve, Prowl kept working his mouth and glossa through Jazz's overload to draw it out and let him down slowly to a humming buzz. He left Jazz panting and leaning back before testing the Polyhexian's grip on his helm.

Jazz let his legs relax open, and his grip on Prowl's helm turned into a caress. "Good pet," he purred. "Go enjoy the view." 

Prowl smiled with a rumbling purr that vibrated the oil around him and kissed Jazz's spike cover before pushing off lightly and turning to face the huge window-wall. When he settled at the edge and the oil stilled around him Jazz noted with approval that his valve cover was open.

"Someone's eager," he rumbled, and slipped into the oil himself, taking a few moments to let the heat soak in before he moved in behind Prowl, settling his hands on his hips. "Praxus is beautiful," he murmured close to his audial, looking out over the same view. 

"It is, and I am," Prowl rumbled in reply. "You feel so very good inside me."

"Maybe a bit too eager," Jazz said with a grin, and slipped his hand down Prowl’s front, to between his legs, reaching to tease at his valve. "But just as beautiful as his city." 

Prowl hummed and pressed into the touch. "I don't believe that too eager exists."

"Only if you overload too soon." Jazz continued to scatter light, tapping touches around the platelets for a few more moments before slipping one finger in. "Understand?" 

"Yes," Prowl moaned and cycled calipers close around the thin intruder. "Not until I feel your charge deep inside me."

"Good pet," Jazz murmured, crooking his finger and pressing the heel of his hand against Prowl's housing, causing Prowl to gasp at the stimulation. "It's nice to feel you so relaxed." 

"You treat me so well," Prowl moaned shamelessly and rocked into the hand teasing him with a promise of more to come.

"You deserve it, lovely," Jazz purred. "All you need to do for me is relax, and enjoy." 

Prowl nodded and rested his helm on his arms, optics dimmed but still glowing softly, gazing at the city lights. He made no sound other than the occasional soft gasp or low moan as more fingers were added, and eventually Jazz's other hand joined in. 

"That's it," Jazz praised, one of the many compliments that had been peppered throughout. "That's perfect, just like that." He rocked against Prowl's aft, letting him feel his fully-extended spike for the first time since entering the tub. Prowl pressed back in answer, cocking his hips up, thighs spreading wider. Jazz gave a pleased hum, drew his hands away to hold Prowl's waist, and angled himself to slide in in one smooth stroke. Who sighed was up for debate, though it was likely both of them. This time their movements were gentle, slow and smooth. An expression of affection and tenderness.

With each thrust and withdrawal Prowl's doorwings made lazy patterns in the oil, drawing out simple glyphs of praise and pleasure in Praxian.

Jazz's mouth stayed against his neck as he rocked slowly. With three overloads already down for the evening, including one of the more intense spike overloads of Jazz's existence, the slow pace was easy, even a relief, to maintain. Getting to hear the soft pleasure from his lover made it even better. He could just dim his visor and whisper endless, tender praises. 

Only, not entirely endless, because the evening _would_ eventually end and even relatively sated, the way Prowl cycled his valve felt _incredible_ and his charge was growing. 

And he could feel Prowl's charge close to tipping over, through their mingled field, but after how Prowl had ridden him Jazz knew this mech's self-control would equal his own. 

"Not yet," he purred, when the walls quivered after a deep stroke. Prowl quivered even as he nodded and focused more fully on keeping his systems in check under the slow assault of bliss spiraling out from his valve.

"You're so good," Jazz breathed, the last words he was capable of before his awareness became nothing more than a haze of pleasure. 

When both their frames were shaking, crackling, and Jazz was starting to dismiss overheating warnings from submerged vents, he gasped, "Now," and stopped resisting his overload. The moment his first surge of transfluid hit Prowl's valve the Praxian let himself go and cried out when the overload locked his entire form in tension. Around them the oil simmer as their frames went lax.

After a few kliks, Jazz groaned, no longer able to ignore the heat warnings, and drew back, standing upright and holding a hand out to Prowl. "Shower with me?" 

"I'd love to," Prowl purred and stood, far more tolerant of the heat but still fluffed. Jazz drew him to the shower with a grin and pushed him against the wall, pressing in for a kiss as the cool solvent shower started up. Prowl returned it ardently and relaxed fully in submission thick with eagerness while the shower cooled their frames but not their passions.

When they were clean, somehow managing without ever breaking the kiss for more than a few moments, Jazz turned the shower off and they stood in the quiet. 

"You mind snuggling?" Jazz murmured against Prowl's mouth. "I'll be in recharge soon, you can do what you want after that." 

Prowl smiled and kissed him. "I'd like to snuggle for a while." He followed Jazz to the berth, sinking into it fully for the first time, and Jazz smiled at the blissful look that crossed his features as he felt the quality of the padding. Jazz lay down facing him and snuggled close enough to give a few more lazy kisses before tucking his helm under Prowl's chin. Prowl sighed softly, a sound of contentment as he drifted into low-grade recharge.

* * *

Jazz roused the next morning feeling more rested and content than he had in a long time. He reached out automatically, but the berth was cold. 

He brought his visor online and saw an empty berth, then pushed himself up and looked around. Soft dawn light was coming through the windows, and the room looked empty. 

He stood and went to the washrack, peeking in, and found that similarly free of company. He touched the oil--still warm, so it had been turned off at some point during the night after he'd gone into recharge. He was glad the mech had gotten to enjoy it some more, Jazz had rarely seen someone _that_ happy about hot oil. 

He'd intended to extend the room a night for Prowl to enjoy, and found himself genuinely disappointed to be alone. He went back into the main room, and paused when he saw something on the table next to the entry. 

His transaction stick. Jazz frowned and picked it up. 

Unused. And the account it was linked to, he found after a quick check, was similarly untouched. 

Well, that was at least interesting.

* * *

"Jazz, hello," the local ISO commander said as Jazz walked into the board room. "Thanks for coming all the way out here, how was the drive in?" 

"Good, thank you," Jazz said. 

"Get in this morning?" 

"Yesterday morning, actually," Jazz said, settling into one of the chairs around the table. They were the only two there so far. "Got to do some sight seeing." 

"There is enough to see here," the Praxian nodded. "This mission includes a liaison with the local Enforcers, he’ll be briefing you as soon as he arrives. We're waiting on him to clear security. So what do you think of our city?"

"As always," Jazz said, and heard the door start to open, "Stunning and with some of the finest hospitality to be found..." A Praxian stepped in, one that Jazz recognized _very_ well despite the shift to Enforcer black and white colors and addition of a light bar. "...On Cybertron." 

"Ah--Prowl, perfect," the commander said. "Jazz, this is Prowl, the detective who first picked up on the trafficking ring. His work has been invaluable to us, we'd never have made it this far without his work. Prowl, this is Jazz, the ISO agent liaising from Iacon." 

"We've met," Prowl's frame was stiff and formal, though there was a hint of warmth in his tone as he stepped the rest of the way in and found a seat. "I hope our work together goes as well as last night did."

Jazz could only laugh and shake his helm. "Please tell me this is a surprise for you too," he said, well-aware of the Commander's arched optic ridge. 

"Quite the surprise. The odds are simply astounding," Prowl admitted freely.

"One of you spill it," the city's ISO Commander looked between the pair with arms crossed over his chest and an amused look given they seemed to like each other.

"Oh..." Jazz said, waving a hand vaguely, "Prowl was just ... demonstrating some of that famed Praxian hospitality I was complimenting." 

Prowl chuckled. "He picked me up for a paid date. I had a good enough time I didn't charge him. I had no idea he was an agent, much less my case’s agent, at the time."

"Just keep it professional on duty." The Commander stood and shook his helm as Prowl got the look of aghast insult off his features. "I'll leave you to brief Jazz."

Prowl nodded. "Of course, Commander."

The door closed behind the Commander and then looked at each other for a moment, before Jazz leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and grinning. "Mech I was thinkin’ you were mafia or something.' 

Prowl shook his helm and chuckled. "I hunt mafia, among other things. I kept some of my SWAT upgrades when I was promoted out of field work. I honestly didn't calculate what you might be other than a visitor with a clue about our interfacing culture. I do regret not being there when you booted but I had to get to the office." He motioned to the datapad in his hand. "I would enjoy spending more time with you off duty if you wish. Last night was very enjoyable."

"Was kinda lonely," Jazz said. "No goodbye. But y'know, I _did_ extend the room a night as a surprise, and haven't cancelled it yet." 

"I didn't want to disturb your rest," Prowl apologized in a way. "I would enjoy spending another night there with you. It was an amazing room and wonderful company. We could even talk this time," he said with an amused cant. 

"Nah I get it, early morning," Jazz said. "And I'd like that," he added. "Unconventional order, but then, I can't say I've ever been much for conventional." 

"Few in ISO are," Prowl chuckled. "Ready to go over the file?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Jazz said with a sigh. "It's gonna be a _long_ day."

**Author's Note:**

> Nanoklik: 1 second;  
> Klik: 62 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> Breem: 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> Groon: 9 breems/1.24 hours;  
> Joor: 6 groons/7.44 hours;  
> Orn: 42 joors/13.02 days;  
> Decaorn: A Cybertonian 'week'. It contains ten orns and lasts 130.2 days/4.34 months


End file.
